


Every Birthday Is a Resurrection

by fosfomifira



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Finale, Resurrection Day fic, Thomas' Gay Grand Tour references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 15:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14192334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fosfomifira/pseuds/fosfomifira
Summary: Flint first noticed the piercing on Thomas’ earlobe back when he was still James McGraw, before they became lovers.





	Every Birthday Is a Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fandomfan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfan/gifts).



> Happy birthday!

Flint first noticed the piercing on Thomas’ earlobe back when he was still James McGraw, before they became lovers. They had been busy at work in Thomas’ study, light streaming through the windows. Thomas had leaned over the desk to point at something on a chart, bringing him right by James’ side, impossible to ignore. Thomas was speaking intently, so devoted to the subject that had caught his attention he didn't notice James's lack of attention to the matter at hand

James had found himself hopelessly distracted by the sheer presence of the man, the heat of his body, the subtle scent of whichever perfume he wore. For a moment James’ better judgment disappeared and all he could do was to look at the man in the way he so rarely allowed himself to look at men. He noticed the pale smoothness of Thomas’ skin, the fine lines around his smiling eyes, the gentle slope of his nose, the strength of his jaw, the soft pinkness of his lips. He noticed the carefully shaved face, the elegant neck, his golden hair. And there, small and unremarkable, a piercing on his left earlobe.

Once they became lovers and his reluctance was conquered, it felt as natural as breathing to allow James’ instinct for tenderness to surface. All of Thomas was a land James wished to explore and anoint with his kisses and his touch, his curiosity lovingly indulged. 

“Did you have this ear pierced?” James asked.

“As a youth,” Thomas said, “an affectation acquired during my Grand Tour, though I didn't think of it as an affectation at the time, of course. An acquaintance in Florence pointed to the portraits of men wearing jewelry, so unashamed of their own beauty. He was very fond of my neck, you see, and gifted me with a pearl pendant the better to display it, he said. I was quite vain at the time and didn't think to reject his request. He pierced my ear and then took it upon himself to make me forget about the momentary pain. 

“I wore his earring for a while, in private. Lord Hamilton raged when he saw me wearing it. Called me a useless peacock. I'd have kept on wearing it, but then I met Miranda and became of the mind she was best suited to that kind of jewelry. I kept the earring. It's well hidden now.”

There was more than a hint of jealousy at Thomas’ words growing in James’ gut, one best explored in private. What time he and Thomas could spend together should not be wasted with such emotions. After all, Thomas had made no secret of his extensive past, the myriad experiences shared with many lovers. This was the spark that made the jealousy in James burn brighter. To live such a life where one is free to travel the world and see its wonders with no consideration to expenses, to find so many others of like mind to share a bed with in complete comfort and safety, such dreams were dreams James McGraw never dared to have. The fact that one of Thomas’ past lovers had been so infatuated with him and his beauty that he persuaded him to wear an earring was almost inconsequential. 

*

When time came for James Flint to be born a pierced ear seemed like a natural gesture to mark himself as part of the pirate class. There had been no Florentine lover lying on silk sheets to take care of the deed. A sharp needle from Miranda’s sewing kit, rum, and a steady hand in the loneliness of his room were enough, whilst Miranda was safely away visiting one of her few acquaintances. When Miranda came back James, the choice of which ear had been pierced went unmentioned by Miranda and James both.

*

A free life with Thomas is a miracle no God could have granted and yet here they are, together, mostly hale, mostly whole. They share a home and a bed and their hearts. Ten years spent apart have shaped their bodies and minds, but old marks have now become familiar to each other. One year of freedom together has gone by and Thomas’ own birthday is coming ever closer. Their lives are simple both by necessity and choice. There's no need to draw attention to themselves, James believes, and their funds are also limited. They struggled at first, but there has been neither hunger nor cold. The roof over their heads does not leak, the sheets on their bed could almost be considered as soft. There are many books on their bookshelves and the possibility to acquire more is there. And yet, James finds their life wanting in ways he knows Thomas would never mention.

Being welcome into the Hamilton home opened doors to comforts James had barely dreamt of, such a complete lack of hardship words failed him when he tried to describe their fortune. Thomas had trained himself out of missing such things. He had had the desire to want them ripped out of him with every day his freedom had been taken away from him. A choice, Thomas had called it, a way to ensure both his survival and his sanity, he said, one of the few times the subject was mentioned. One more painful sacrifice Thomas had been forced to endure in James’ eyes. 

James can’t help but be reminded of Miranda who wanted joy and beauty and music in their lives and how she had been murdered pursuing peace, so cruelly betrayed. James had given such things to her in every way he could. He thinks of the many solitary teacups, the dresses made with purloined fabrics, the books he carefully chose for her, the spinet he hardly ever got a chance to hear her play. 

*

There is peace in their lives now, a sense of contentment they give to each other every day they spend together. There is joy to be found in the simple things, Thomas says, kissing him under the comfortable, warm covers of their bed. 

“My life is not wanting now that you're back in my arms,” he states. “The only missing presence in our lives will be restored to us in the next world, if there's such a thing as justice and mercy. Her absence is none of your fault and she would not have you punish yourself over it,” Thomas adds. He believes every single word that comes out of his mouth, he always has, but James finds their lives lacking all the same. A beautiful, good man such as Thomas deserves a beautiful, good life.

*

The answer comes to James on a nearby beach, the morning after a storm. No one else in the village has dared yet set foot out of their homes, fearful of any gusts of wind and the chance of yet more pounding rain, but James knows this weather better than most. He has become attuned to his new home, reading its nature with a sailor’s eyes. At the turn of the tide, before dawn breaks, there's peace to be found if a nightmare has robbed him of his sleep.

There is debris scattered all over the sand, trees uprooted from the shore, seaweed torn from the depths of the sea. There also seems to be what the remains of a shipwreck, but once James gets closer he finds it to be a buried cache, a broken small wooden chest hiding a smaller metallic box. The pirate in him can't help but scoff at whoever chose such a poor location in the shifting sands to hide their wealth, but their foolishness is James’ fortune. A little persuasion with his knife opens the lock of the box, an unexpected gift from the sea that have taken so much from him and given so much in return, the sea which no longer troubles him with Thomas by his side.

Inside there’s a small pouch filled with coins of every denomination. The Dutch, French, Spanish and Portuguese crowns are here represented in silver and the occasional bit of gold. In most coins England’s mark is to be found, easiest to use in town without arousing any questions. The rest can be converted at a good rate when James visits a bigger city, safety for any harsher times that might lie ahead. There are many sensible uses for this money, but James will allow himself one sentimental gesture first. 

It takes a visit to a goldsmith a few hours’ ride from their home, the man’s past as vague as his and Thomas’. They have had a few dealings as James sought to discreetly cash in the few gems he’d sown into the seams of his clothing, a pirate trick learnt a lifetime ago. The man had asked no questions and there had been no judgment in his eyes when they'd first met; something akin to mutual understanding was found instead. James knows he can trust him with this request.

*

The object, so lovingly wrapped in silk, burns a hole in James’ pocket as he impatiently waits for Thomas’ birthday to come.

*

The morning of the day itself Thomas sleeps in peacefully. The night before James had exhausted him with kisses, taking his time between Thomas’ spread legs, James’ mouth as clever and giving as ever. Thomas as free with his pleasure as James had even known him, demanding more and more of him until James’ body had nothing more to give. 

James knows he should wait for Thomas to wake up on his own, but the impulse to touch him is too strong to be resisted. 

“Happy birthday,” James says, his voice a low murmur as he kisses his way down Thomas’ body, determined to please him one more time. It’s not long before Thomas comes in his mouth whilst James spends on his own hand, neither one of them in the mood to wait for their pleasure. Sex stupid, James stumbles out of bed to dig around for his hidden treasure and give Thomas the first of his birthday gifts. A small wooden box, carefully carved, opens to reveal a small gold stud to match James’ own, made out of the smallest coin he could find. 

“If I gave you my ring you could not wear it without questions being asked. No one here remarks on my earring,” James says, tongue tied and bashful as he'd been so long ago in Thomas’ old house, his heart so closely guarded.

Thomas is silent for a moment, his dear eyes full of unshed, happy tears. “I shall wear your ring all the same, won't I? Strange pairs, James. Strange and matched pairs do accomplish the most extraordinary things indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Foxtales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxtales) betaed selected bits of this fic. All remaining mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> do come say hi on [ tumblr ](http://selfconsciousfangirl.tumblr.com/) if that's your thing.


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